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This was published 3 months ago
Writer Marian Keyes on pushing through depression’s ‘numb bubble’
By Benjamin Law
Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we’re told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they’re given. This week, he talks to Marian Keyes. At 60, she’s one of Ireland’s most successful authors. Her novels, including Watermelon, Rachel’s Holiday and Grown Ups, have been published in 39 languages. Her latest is My Favourite Mistake.
Marian Keyes started writing short stories at age 30: “I honestly think that it was some attempt to keep myself alive.”Credit: Shutterstock
SEX
Would you say that your books are feminist? Calling them “feminist” makes it sound like I had an agenda. But by simply writing about the lives of women whom I know and recognise, I think it’s impossible to avoid seeing my books through a feminist lens because the system was constructed by, and for, straight white men. So yeah, they’re definitely feminist.
You’ve said before that, as a menopausal woman, you like banging the drum for the idea that women don’t all wither when they turn 37. Can you expand on that? Well, I’m 60 and I feel alive, I feel vital. And for so long, menopausal women were regarded as crones who were too ugly to be looked at and had run out of any purpose. But I also don’t like the idea of women as people who use sex as leverage within a relationship, that they don’t enjoy sex. That’s not my personal experience or the experience of lots of other women.
What’s the key to writing a good sex scene? Oh, my god. So I had to voice the audiobooks of my last two novels. Reading out the sex scenes [induced pure] dread. But it’s about good characterisation. It’s got to be based on two people who really fancy each other, but can’t be too technical. It’s got to be about emotion and connection, and an awful lot more than the ins and outs, if you get me!
BODIES
How does it feel in your body to be 60? It feels fine! I mean, I’ve sort of a dodgy knee, but I climbed a mountain on the weekend. I run. I feel healthy and strong. I also eat absolute crap – I make no apologies for it – and I come from a family who are always sick; we’re the sickest family in Ireland. Usually, I have something wrong with me and I’m the kind of person who always has loads of painkillers in her bag. But I feel well. I also try to think about all the things my body has done for me, and that it does every day. As I said, I climbed this mountain at the weekend! I think that’s incredible.
You’ve documented yourself getting cosmetic procedures on Instagram and take the piss out of yourself. Many people get work done; not everyone discloses it. Why share? People should do what they feel comfortable doing. But when women say to me, “What’s your skincare? What do you use?” I cannot in good conscience say this exfoliator or that night cream because I feel it would be – for me – dishonest. I’d just rather people knew so that they don’t have to think, “F--- it, why don’t I have a line‑free forehead?” The reason I don’t [have lines there] is because I have things injected in my forehead.
You’ve been candid about your mental health, too. In your 40s, you had a bad stretch of depression that lasted for years and left you unable to sleep or write. What helped? Oh god, the worst of it was feeling that I didn’t love anyone and nobody loved me. I felt so completely isolated, like I was in this numb bubble. I know this sounds dramatic, but not killing myself was very difficult; I apologise if that upsets people. The only thing that really helped was time. I also didn’t realise at the time that I was in perimenopause. When my hormones eventually settled, that seemed to help. And knowing that people loved me, even though I couldn’t feel it. There was a part of me that felt I had a duty to stay alive for them. I’m still on antidepressants and have no intention of ever coming off them because I feel normal now.
MONEY
What did your parents do for money? My dad was an accountant, but my mother was obliged to give up work when she got married. That was a terrible thing for her; she’s still such a creative, fun and gifted person. She should have been in the workforce. But my dad was so good; we always had enough to eat and had a house to live in, but there was never extra.
Did you have an idea of what you wanted to do? No, I had no idea. I had no expectation that I would have any kind of future. The goal was to be happy. That was all I wanted.
How did writing come into the picture? I didn’t start writing until I was 30. It was towards the end of my alcoholic drinking, when I was very close to crashing and burning. I started writing short stories. I honestly think that it was some attempt to keep myself alive. When I came out of rehab, I felt very positive and I sent them to an Irish publisher saying, “I’ve started a novel” – and I hadn’t. Then they wrote back and said, “Can we see the novel?” And instead of thinking, “Oh, my god,” I thought, “OK, I’ll give it a go.” I wrote four chapters in a week, sent them off to the publisher, and they eventually became my first book, Watermelon.
How rich are you now? Oh, my god. People don’t usually ask me! I know this sounds weird, but I don’t know. But I know that I have a home that I love, and that I can take care of my siblings and my mother and people that I love. I mean, I was able to send my parents on the QEII to New York. That felt so extravagant and lavish, and I felt safe doing it. It didn’t make me feel sick with anxiety, and that feeling is lovely.
Apart from financial earnings, what’s your definition of success? Oh, I mean, perfect success would be to be unmoved by the world’s opinion of me – to never, ever, ever be bothered by that. Maybe one day I’ll get there!
Lifeline: 13 11 14
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